Cum Alas Angeli
by AbaddontheDevourer
Summary: Justice brought low by arrogance. A child, a bridge between two worlds. He slumbers in the Dream as the world turns without him but the masses cry for salvation To save or to damn.
1. Prologue

It was an unassuming cottage, nestled on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow, no one passing by it would spare it more than a second thought. It was in that simplicity, that unintelligible factor, that the protections began. To those hiding from one of the worst Dark Lords in recent history, anonymity was essential.

The fidelius was the other crucial part, as the secret of their existence was hidden within the very soul of the Secret Keeper, preventing anyone from ever seeing them even if they were close enough to touch.

However it had a single flaw in that it required someone that you could trust absolutely.

And as the inhabitants of the cottage were about to learn that was fatal.

With nary but a small pop a man appeared at the perimeter, cloaked in black and brandishing a small wooden stick. Stepping towards the wrought iron fence, he extended his hand feeling ancient magics that had been erected to protect the people within.

They were so close, the one who could bring about his downfall, and the bitch who had evaded him for so long.

With a sinister smile on his reptilian face he shattered the Fidelius, reveling in the screams of fear that his presence brought.

A crackling fire, the gentle warmth of the inferno served to drive away the early cold that October brought. To her though it was a pale reminder of the warmth that once embraced her. Calloused hands wrapped around her waist as her husband drew her into his arms. "What are you thinking about?" He asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Past mistakes." She answered, removing his hand, not seeing the frown that marred his face.

"Look I know that being cooped up here doesn't exactly fit with what you want to be doing right now." He started.

She snorted, "Understatement of the millenia, James, but as you and Dumbledore keep insisting that I stay, ignoring my feelings on the matter I have little choice but to remain. A caged bird in a gilded nest."

"You're not trapped here Lily." James said patiently. "These wards are here to protect us from the Dark Lord."

"Yet here I am unable to step foot outside the perimeter lest the wards activate and draw more attention to us." She drawled. "I don't know about you James but that sounds like I'm trapped."

"What do you want Lily?" He sighed tiredly. "We've tried to make everything as comfortable as we could."

"Now you're asking my feelings, when you've done all but ignore them since we graduated? You've so blindly allowed Dumbledore to lead you by the nose, even believing in that blasted prophecy of his."

"What do you want me to do Lily?" He all but screamed. "He's the leader of the light, has more than a century of experience, and is the greatest sorcerer since Merlin."

She broke out in laughter wondering how Merlin would see the comparison not to mention the sorcerers of old whose powers were said to rival minor gods.

Before their argument could escalate any further a sudden pressure bore down on them driving them to their knees. Eyes widening Lily ran to the window paling as she saw the cloaked figure steadily making its way towards their home.

Two sets of eyes met as all anger melted away replaced with cold determination to protect their most valuable thing in the world. They both opened their mouth but Lily was faster. "Go James! I'll hold him off!"

"But-" He started only to freeze at the glacial look his wife shot him. Gripping his wand tightly he turned and ran up the stairs as he methodically shot off every protection spell he knew in an attempt to buy them some time. He looked back wondering if this would be the last time he saw his wife, he didn't want their last conversation to be an argument. "I lov-"

"Go James." She cut him off, the commanding aura she gave off prompting him to shut up and run. She didn't spare him a fleeting glance as she strode towards the door determined to seize the initiative, her mind mentally reviewing every fight that she had with the Dark Lord, every trick and feint that he had fallen for and spell that he favored. Touching the brooch on her shoulder she canceled the illusion, her plain house clothes replaced with a double layered dragon hide vest, comfortable shoes and pants. Eschewing protection for anything that was non-vital she hoped that the speed would give her an edge against the heavy hitting Dark Lord.

With a negligent wave of her wand she blasted the front door outwards, transfiguring the flying splinters into iron spikes that would resist transformation. A second flick hurled a lightning bolt that arced between the spikes, while a swish and flick sent the brass chandelier from the foyer hurtling towards her foe. Stepping to the side she dodged the iron spikes that the Dark Lord had sent back her way his reaction just as quick as she expected. Stabbing her wand forward she let loose a vicious curse one that would've seen her lounging in Azkaban if used on any other foe. Pestilence and disease flew from the tip of her wand, rotting and decaying anything caught in its path. Swinging her wand she blanketed the area where her foe was, uncaring of casualties so long as she took him down. It was only then she caught sight of him, clad in his distinct black robes, his handsome face still bearing a youthfulness that belied the horrifying amounts of dark rituals he had conducted and his age. His counterattack was exactly what she expected lacking finesse as he shot forth terrible fel magics that cursed the land when they hit. Parrying his spells, swatting them to and fro, she could feel the invasive presence of the dark magic within each, trying to invade the core of her wand and pervert it. Frowning she began to dodge, using her own agility to sidestep, crouch, and jump over the spells, only countering when he tried to unleash his more devastating magics that carpeted the entire area. Twirling her wand like a conductor does their baton she mass transfigured everything around her into iron chains which she used to bind him in place.

Before the Dark Lord had a chance to counter she created a dome around him, trapping him within its confines as she summoned a cloud of dust to fill the dome. A second spell filled the dome with wind, whipping the fine dust particles around before her final spell a simple flame charm ignited the entire dome as a dust explosion occurred. "Quite a warm welcome, my dear." Cultured and refined, the Dark Lord's voice sounded from within the dome.

"Clearly not warm enough." She muttered fanning the winds within the dome increase the temperature of the fire until it was an eye searing white. _Of all the stupid things I've ever needed to do this is definitely up there._ She thought grimly, wondering if after all these years they would answer her call. _Uriel, help me shine brightly with highest truth, reflect now with the fires in my breast and illuminate the world with the Divine Light. Flow now through me so that I may embody the light of the Divine, and let no evil touch upon my presence._ Finishing her invocation she could feel a small sliver of power reaching into her, connecting her with the greater world as the strength of her spells surged in response to the threat she was confronting. "Thank you." She muttered, hoping that the wards she had hidden herself behind were still up enough so that they thought her just another believer calling upon them.

Still that tiny sliver of power that she had been granted was euphoric, her body overflowing with power that she hadn't felt in a long time, as a savage smile blossomed on her face. With a bellow like a vengeful war goddess she unleashed magics that would've killed any other magician due to their power requirements. Cutting her hand she sent her blood soaring in the sky. "Heavenly fires stolen from the hands of gods rain down upon the enemy before me and smite them with thine righteous fury. Fires of destruction reduce all creation to nothing, deny him the bliss of death as the flames of Prometheus bestowed upon man show me thy Blaze of Glory."

Blood hung in the air, sizzling and crackling before they fell to the ground in a veritable torrent, as flames more ravenous then even fiendfyre roared to life. If you stared into those flames you would've seen your end as foul images of death and destruction assailed your mind. A weak willed person would've succumbed at a glance as their entire psych shattered before the titanic forces of the inferno, yet the Dark Lord took it head on, screaming his defiance as the flames washed over him.

She stood there resolutely wand at the ready as she waited with baited breath to see if her foe was finally finished. What she saw could scarcely be believed as the body of the Dark Lord lying in so small a pile of ash began to swirl in unseen winds.

"Kukuku. HAHAHA!" The demented laugh that echoed through the night a stark contrast to the poised and confident image from before.

"You?!" She stated in disbelief. "You're not even human anymore are you?"

"Humans, frail creatures filled with naught but weakness, such concepts are not applicable to one such as I." He boasted. "I have walked down paths long since forgotten and gone further down the road of immortality than any has dared before. Tremble, and be in awe for before you stands the greatest wizard to have ever lived."

A small part of her wondered what exactly the sorcerers of old would think of this young upstart. The more realistic part of her mind said that the sudden and painful smiting would convey the idea aptly. Faster than she thought the Dark Lord's ashes began to swirl reconstituting into a body. "It's useless Lilith." He taunted. "Nothing you can do can harm me, I have become what even Koschei failed to do. I AM IMMORTAL."

"Everything dies, even Gods." Lily responded, letting loose with a dozen spectral blades effective against the undead.

"Yet here I stand your greatest magics falling to even harm me. Take my hand, Lilith, you need not die tonight, only your son." Extending his hand the Dark Lord beckoned her forward. "I know of the darkness you hide, of the tomes that you eagerly devour when no one is looking. How you hate being forced into casting stunners when every instinct is telling you to let loose, war and death are in you battle causes your blood to sing. I do not expect an answer right away."

A searing pain erupted across her chest as a savage cut appeared. "One of Severus' originals. I know you know the counterspell but this will keep you occupied for the time being." Turning his back on her the Dark Lord walked towards the house intent on finishing his mission.

* * *

_Now that, that's over with._ He thought slowly entering the home, only to be availed as the entire floor and surrounding walls lit up in runic traps. For the second time in less than a half hour the Dark Lord was reduced to nothing more than ashes as his body was assaulted by dozens of elemental spells, curses and other nasties that would've made Egyptian sorcerers, renowned for their mastery of the dark arts, blanch in fear.

_Ridiculous_. As soon as his body had finished reforming he was assaulted once more, his wand ablaze with emerald spellfire as he hastily shielded, sidestepped, and literally threw himself to the floor, rolling and scurrying back and forth to dodge all the spells coming his way. Eventually though the runic spellfire died down, having exhausted all their stored power and he was thankful that the house had not been built on a leyline lest it continue forever. _Maybe I should finish her off._

Lilith Evans.

The name burned in his mind as she was responsible for killing him no less than a half dozen times tonight, each death slightly more creative and sadistic than the last, not to mention incredibly painful. Poking at one of the runic arrays with his wand he was happy for his hooded robe as it his his worried expression. The arrays were quickly recharging, drawing power from the leylines that ran through the air, and while they were weaker they were more plentiful than the ones that ran through the earth. A quick analysis told him that the part created to shunt excess power from the storage matrix had been purposefully removed, burned out after the initial attack. It seemed like Lilith was not happy just reducing a person to ash but set up the entire thing to go atomic to make sure that the job was finished as completely as possible.

The urge to kill that infernal woman was growing more and more, as he all but sprinted up the stairs shielding himself under the power of an Aegis shield. A wand and head peeked from the top of the flight of stairs as James took the moment to fight back, the entire corridor awash with transfigured creatures and summoned weapons. Thankfully he had none of the deviousness that his wife had and the Dark Lord barreled right through them, bombardment spells flying so fast from his wand that it looked like a solid beam of red energy. He had almost made it up the stairs when a large hand grabbed his legs and dragged him down into the basement.

"Ooof." The air was knocked out of him as he was bodily picked up and smashed into the walls and floor. His mind almost shutting down as pain from being used as a human wrecking ball coursed through him. "Of course she had to have a bloody golem."

Outlawed by the Ministry for centuries the deadly mobile siege weapon was unlike its mud or stone counterparts, rather ensorcelled steel and fury. Shaped in the vague parody of a knight the 4 meter tall death machine wielded a morningstar whose head was larger than his torso. It was only through liberal use of magical reinforcement did the house not come tumbling down as the his back met the steel of a support pillar and bent it. Helplessly he watched as the Golem raised the morningstar and crushed his head with all the effort it takes to pop a grape. Moments later, with a new head the Dark Lord let loose with a furious curse, hoping to melt the ensorcelled beast only to die once more as it flung its morning star at him like a spear, piercing his body in a dozen different places and turning him into a paste against the wall.

Reforming was getting more and more painful, as he summoned a stream of fiendfyre to destroy the golem, which was surprisingly quick on its feet as it dodged, reached over to one side of the basement and picked up a warhammer and kite shield. The deadly siege weapon, meant to destroy castles and fortifications let loose a bellowing war cry as it charged him, intent on ending his existence. Rather than fight the Dark Lord showed the belligerent engine a clean pair of heels as he cast a flight spell and zoomed back up the hole he had come through, hoping that the weapon was too heavy to be able to move on the regular floors. With a wave of his wand he conjured a boulder and dropped it back down the hole hoping to have crushed the golem.

Knowing he had to be quick about it, lest the golem get out from under the crushing weight of the boulder and the surrounding area became the first ever magical rendition of the Trinity Site, he sprinted for the door, a siege engine class spell leaving his wand destroying any protections in his way.

* * *

_Well bollocks_. She swore, grimacing in a parody of a smile as she thought that the British were finally getting to her. _Who knew Edward's descendent would finish what the Black Prince started all those years ago._

The wound while definitely bad was as the Dark Lord said not enough to kill her especially since she had seen him use it to cut entire groups of Aurors in half yet this one would only leave her with a nasty scar for a while.

She could hear the sound of spell fire being exchanged within the house as James fought desperately against the Dark Lord. One thought dominated her mind though as she struggled futilely to make her body move.

Harry!

Harry!

Her mind screamed as her own regeneration kicked in, slowly overpowering and absorbing the malignant energies in her wound.

Yet it wasn't fast enough as she heard the din of spellfire slowly fading.

Desperately grasping at the meager remains of her own power she attempted to speed up the process but it was to no avail as she was lacking the spark to truly get back on her feet.

_What's more important? Pride? Or my son?_

To most it would've been a no brainer as they threw away their pride to save their family, but to her whose entire remembered existence was caused because of pride it was not an easy thing.

Still the maternal instincts that she didn't really know she had until her son was born flared into existence immolating her pride as she choose to do something that she had sworn never to do again.

* * *

**Heaven.**

**Home of the Angels, of the Heavenly Host and all good souls to have passed to their eternal reward. ****Divided into the Seven Heavens it was a thing of beauty of perfection, as its gilded streets and marbles arches stood proudly throughout. ****Yet for all its beauty one couldn't help but notice the melancholic atmosphere that seemed to pervade every level, growing stronger as one rose to the seat of the Lord Almighty himself, in the Seventh Heaven. ****Here the Throne of the Lord stood empty dust, and age beginning to show on the marbled seat as behind it the clockwork gears of the powerful System groaned and toiled. A system designed to be used by the Lord himself, now suffered neglect and decay even with the effort that Michael put in to hold it altogether.**

**After all a system designed to be utilized by a God could be used by no other and Michael was no God.****Without their Lord it was only a matter of time until the entire System failed and the consequences would be damning.**

* * *

"Oh Dad?" Lily inquired, her breathing coming more steadily as the gaping hole in her chest healed.

* * *

**Deep within the bowels of the System, close to the heart of the entire machine that oversaw and helped to guide and strengthen the Faith of Man, a spark arced.**

* * *

"Dad are you listening?"

* * *

**Ancient gears and cogs untouched for millennia began to turn as subsystems began to awaken after their long sleep.****The groaning and screeching as rust began to fall off them, pulses from within the heart restoring them to perfection.**

* * *

"I don't know if this is all part of that Great Plan of yours, or if you can even hear me. But if you are up there I could really use a favor right about now."

* * *

**Faster and faster they turn, arcing electricity as more and more systems awoke. And in the heart of it all a set of golden doors stood resolutely shut.**

* * *

"I know I haven't been the daughter that you wanted me to be. What with the smiting, and death and judgment but I could really use your help right now."

* * *

**The golden doors stood silent and barred.**

* * *

"I'll be the daughter that you wanted me to be."

* * *

**With agonizing slowness the doors began to open, just enough for a person to peek their head through, revealing a simple yet comfortable room. Well made wooden furniture, an armoire and desk with a plush high backed chair, though the room was dominated by a dead hearth and a large bed. lying within it a man slept sound dreaming of his children's happiness even as the world continued without him, unaware of the masses crying out for salvation.**

* * *

"I'll do as you ask, go where you command once more."

* * *

**And yet the cries of his treasured daughter, of the wailing of his grandchild as Death approached was enough to stir him for the briefest moment.**

**And in the briefest of moments, in that infinitesimally small moment, the world shook as he LEARNED.**

* * *

"In exchange all I ask is that you protect my son."

* * *

**Ancient forces, omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient awoke. In that moment he was connected to every living creature from the smallest of cells to the mightiest. The previously dead hearth roared to life at what his creations had wrought, at what life had become, as eyes like spiraling galaxies opened, and with a voice raspy from millennia of disuse he spoke a single word, the name of his will made manifest, of his judgment and vengeance.**

**A Divine Name.**

**"Raguel."**


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: So second chapter is out. Pretty much had this done last week but been too busy to post it. For those that read the first chapter and saw all the the bad grammatical mistakes, formatting issues, etc. that is what happens when you try to publish using the app, so I decided the do it through my computer rather than having to redo everything once it was posted anyways. This and Salvare are my top priorities and Star Shooter third. To Love a Vanadis' next chapter is almost done, and has been sitting tight for over a year, so I might need to refresh myself on the series, but the entire story will be done before year's end.

* * *

How could one even begin to describe the moment that her Father had accepted her back?

Her selfless Lord, the God who practiced agape.

The Lord whose commandments she had disobeyed and broken, yet he had never lost faith in her. Now when she called for Salvation, for help for her son he was waiting for her, arms open and welcoming.

Though she had hurt him with her betrayal he forgave her, joyous at reuniting with his wayward daughter.

Slowly, almost disbelievingly, she stepped closer, embracing him and the Light that he represented. Even as the Light burned her, the blood in her veins akin to magma, the tears she shed were not of pain but happiness.

"Father." She whispered, the single word holding so much emotion. He drew her closer into his embrace, uncaring about the tears that stained him pristine robes. "Forgive me." Being this close to him reminded her of all the times, millennia past that she served at his side. Those were simpler times, blissful flights through the skies of Heaven, laughter and relaxation in the Gardens, Penemue, Sariel, Gabriel and her lounging under the shade of the trees, a welcome reprieve from their duties. Even among the Angels she was feared, and the companionship of her Sisters was something that she had treasured.

No other words needed to be said before she stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes, and then with a tone born from millennia of duty, of seeing the greatest and worst of humanity she spoke. "What would you have your Arbiter do?"

* * *

In that quaint little home, trashed from the deadly exchange of spell fire, where once she lay in a pool of blood, weak and broken, she was now strong. Gone were her dragonhide robes she was now clad in rich cream-colored robes and her old armor. Divinely wrought greaves of finest silver, vambraces inscribed with litanies of hate and fury, of warning and woe to any who ignored them, a breastplate trimmed in gold with a raised cross and lastly a Corinthian helm with brilliant white plumage. Her armor was not forged by any mundane means, nor wrought by the hands of any pagan god-smith, but rather had been willed into existence by her Father and imbued with his very essence. Devil and demon trembled at the sight of her, the proud humbled, the defiant brought to their knees and the unbroken shattered before the cleansing light of Heaven's Seraph. The very power imbued into her armor the reason no seraph had ever fallen in battle, why the earth trembled at their terrible voice and only they accompanied Father every time he entered battle.

However, it was not just her armor but her wings that she took as proof of her Father's forgiveness. An angel's power was determined by the number of wings that they bore, 2 was weaker than 4, who was weaker than 6 and so forth. From her back 12 wings of shining silver burst forth, the pinions sharp and deadly as cold, harsh, light burned away any lingering darkness. Her eyes once clearest green now alight with emerald fires as her long red hair whipped around like a crown of fire.

To those who saw now even as her true form was somewhat muted by being encased in flesh, the only way to describe her would be wrath incarnate. She was no angel of mercy, rather a soldier nay a general. War, vengeance, and justice were her domains, and while Michael may have led the Armies of Heaven and been God's Strongest soldier, it was she who sat in judgment of all souls, damning and forgiving in accordance to your sins.

It was over in an instant as her caligae touched the paving stones, the light she was emitting dying down to a small glow as she strode into the house, for she was unable to call it a home. Negligently, she flicked her fingers, calling forth power that once would've turned her body to ash to seal them in a pocket dimension, and with a snap of her fingers she began to overpower the runic arrays that the house sat on. Very soon the entire pocket dimension would resemble nothing more than the burning fields of hell, but until then she had plenty of time.

Strolling through the house, she found her hand to be clenching and unclenching as power she hadn't felt in millennia began coursing its way through familiar pathways once more. When she got to the stairs she took a moment to appreciate the damage her golem had done, just imagining the look on the Dark Lord's face when it had dragged him to the basement brought a smile to her face, as she peered into the hole and to look at the mangled remains of her creation. In the center of its chest she could make out the runes that served to repair it should it be damaged, slowly pieces of debris around it were being transmuted into steel, and then into parts to fix broken sections of its armor. Idly she wondered if she had overdone it during the creation process as it slowly stood before her at attention. With a dismissive nod it shrank itself down to the size of an action figure and flew into one of the many pouches on her belt.

Banishing that thought she easily jumped over the hole and up the stairs entirely, to land on the second floor. With a flap of her wings gale force winds blew the door off its hinges. She wasn't worried about harming her son as his crib had protections on it, but for the Dark Lord and James they were blown into the opposing wall, pinned there by her telekinetic power. A snap of her fingers and the wand of the Dark Lord was reduced to ash.

Spreading her wings to their full glory, her light blazing and burning the area around her she walked towards the two men. "You claimed I was of the Darkness." She stated, looking at Voldemort. "I was there when it was pushed back."

Turning to James, "You claimed I was of the Light. What foolishness to compare the tiny spark of Dumbledore, your so-called Leader of the Light, to the all-encompassing holocaust that is my Father's Divinity.

"I am neither Light, nor Dark, such mundane concepts fail to even touch upon the scope of my being. I am a sinner, redeemed and forgiven, elevated, and empowered by her Father's will. The bulwark against which Devils and Fallen break. I fight now not out of pride." In her hands a silver arming sword appeared the blade covered in angelic script, enochian. "Not in the name of Heaven, nor the Grigori." Her eyes burned with conviction that pierced the very souls of the men before her, cold fingers pulling at their very being as they looked away from the being that was in front of them. "From this moment until eternity's end I fight for my son, for my Father's Love which I do not deserve!"

Swinging her sword, she called to the Dark Lord. "Can you hear them?" she asked reveling in the fear that was beginning to take hold in her foe as the room began to fill with the howling of the winds. She laughed at his feeble attempts to break her hold over him, and every time he failed she was reminded of the stark differences between her previous form and the one now infused with Holy Light. Voldemort for all his arrogance, delusions of grandeur, power, and soul splitting atrocities with still human, a mortal. A powerful wizard but a child when compared to the power of the Divine. "They're calling for you Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

If you strained your ears you could heard their voices on the wind.

"Murderer."

"Defiler."

"Kinslayer."

"Hypocrite."

These and a thousand other insults bit into the Dark Lord. "You fancy yourself immortal, thinking that with your soul jars you've conquered Death, but let me tell you Death does not like being cheated, and Azrael has a very special spot for those that think to cheat her. I've seen her break beings infinitely stronger then you, once in her tender mercies you'll be begging for her sweet release, but you'll learn that she is a cruel and merciless angel, one who revels in her duties." At her side wisps began to take form, men and women, young and old, husbands, sons, mothers and daughters, their hands outstretched as if wishing to throttle the neck of their killer.

"Do you know how many you've killed?" She could see the disbelief in his eyes, the questioning look. "24,601, souls sent to judgment because of your spells and experiments, of course this is not by your hand alone but the combined actions of your entire group." There was pride in those eyes, she thought, not for the first time realizing the depths that the man before her had delved into. "Know that only eternal pain awaits you, for all who sin under the law shall be judged by the law and to those that sin yet do not know the Lord's commandment, ignorance is no excuse, guilt weighs down on them like an anchor to a ship, which further goes to prove that there is no such thing as innocence."

Raising her hand, she aimed her palm at the Voldemort. "Thomas Marvolo Riddle, you have been judged." Her eyes began to glow as unearthly power on a scale not seen for millennia coursed through her. "You have been weighed." Her voice carried the hope of salvation and the threat of damnation, it was a divine voice that commanded attention. "You have been measured." The Holy Light began to flow into her palm as the Dark Lord's struggles intensified as his coming end dawned on him. "And you have been found wanting, for all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of my Father. For your crimes there can be only one punishment."

Holy Light burst forth from her palm, searing the target of her ire. "I sentence your fragmented soul to oblivion, to know pain and agony eternal." The Dark Lord screamed as his splintered soul was peeled back layer by layer until it was completely erased.

Moving to the remains she absently nudged them with her boot. "Well at least he had the common decency to not make a mess on his way out, unlike some people." She said shooting a glare at James who was barely holding in his bile at the havoc his wife had wrought. The death of a soul, the howling of winds as every sin ever committed was tallied and accounted for determining you lot in the afterlife. He had never been religious after all most religions had a strict burn the witch first ask questions never policy, but seeing it, feeling the hell that awaited and that there were consequences to his actions was mind breaking. A human mind wasn't meant to process what just happened so like a computer it crashed. Eyes rolling up he slumped against the wall. Lily looked at him for a moment before shrugging and snapping her fingers banishing him from the house and teleporting him to Hogwarts Lake, else he would never be able to escape the heavenly equivalent of a nuke going off shortly.

With that done she stepped to her son's crib smiling at his giggling form as he reached up to try and play with her wings. Shifting him in her arms she easily plucked one of her pinions from her wing and laid it atop him. Clasping her feather, nibbling on the soft silver emerald eyes met emerald as warmth flooded her chest. "My precious son. Let's go home." Stretching her wings, she blew the roof off the house and took off, might wings beating like thunder as she soared higher and higher.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: So it's been a while since I last posted. In the time between then and now. I was promoted, and now oversee an entire state, and have opened up 12 new sites. This has been written for a bit now, could use a beta/someone to bounce ideas off. PM me if you're willing to just talk and know going into it I keep some really weird hours, where its not uncommon for me to work 30 hours straight and then collapse and be dead to the world for the rest of the day. As for the later part of the chapter I was inspired to write Lily the way I did was because I was looping One-Winged Angel in preparation of the remastered Final Fantasy VII, and Cruel Angel Thesis from Evangelion sung by the ever amazing Amalee on youtube. Go check her out for some amazing covers!

* * *

With a sound like breaking glass she appeared on the steps to the Seventh Heaven, ignoring the looks of shock and awe at the sight of her wings. The shock from her appearance soon turned to anger, there were very few Seraphim and many quickly recognized her distinctive silver wings. Several of her siblings tried to rush her, to stop her from profaning the holy atmosphere of Heaven, but she simply brushed them off. Spears of Light capable of driving off the strongest of devils and reducing some to ash failed to penetrate the divinely wrought armor she wore. Might that once reduced the Sodom and Gomorrah to little more than tiny chunks of rubble was nothing compared to her. But still she carried her son with her, her most precious child, and she would allow no harm to come to him. With an outward flaring of her prodigious power she flung every attacker back, throwing them from the Sixth Heaven, to plummet down. Standing before the steps of her Father's Palace she hesitated briefly, doubts creeping across her mind before being banished. Steeling her resolve she stepped foot on the gilded marble stairs.

The soles of her sandals had barely touched the steps before the entirety of Heaven lit up, alarms ringing across every level. In the First Heaven, the angels who stood sentinel at the unbreeched gates turned in shock. Never before had an enemy step foot past the Golden Gates, and yet now one had managed to bypass all their defenses and now threatened to desecrate the very seat of their Father. For the first time in countless millennia the forces of Heaven mobilized intent on stopping their foe before they could get any farther. At the sound of the alarm the Seraphim, protectors of the Throne of God sallied forth, descending on resplendent wings to smite whatever being war stupid enough to try and enter the domain of God.

As the entirety of Heaven's might converged on her, another warmer presence wrapped around her, bolstering her feelings. She had no worries after all, "The Lord is my shepherd." She muttered shifting her son in her arms as she climbed up the stairs, a golden barrier erecting behind her preventing anyone from following.

* * *

_To think it had started off as just another quiet, boring day. _He thought to himself as wings of gold beat, propelling him through the air. Getting out of bed, taking an extra hour to sleep in as a treat for finishing all his paperwork last night, he had barely managed to put on his robes when the alarms began ringing throughout the entirety of Heaven. Dumbstruck was the best way to describe his expression when he heard the call to muster at the stairs of the Seventh Heaven. Pushing aside the disbelief that surged within him, his mind reeling at the possible consequences of having an enemy posed to strike at the literal heart of Heaven, he jumped out the window. With a speed that he didn't know he still possessed he flew through the skies, golden light encasing him as he donned his armor, wincing as he felt how snug it felt in some places. _From Heaven's mightiest warrior to the mightiest pencil pusher. When's the last time I even swung a sword? _"Who would be brazen enough to attack us?" He muttered before dismissing the thought. There were plenty of people more than willing to take a shot at them, the Church and Angels having made no small amount of enemies over the years. "The better question is who was the ability and the knowledge to bypass all our defenses."

Before he could think on that, he was joined by his sister, her 12-wings a downy snow white. "Gabriel." He greeted hastily, noticing the ease in which she moved in her armor. _Should've joined her and Sariel in those training sessions. _He thought glumly.

"Michael." She answered, her voice devoid of its usual cheer. The rest of the short trip was in tense silence before they landed at the steps to the Seventh Heaven. Gathered there were dozens of Powers, the warrior caste of angels, flinging their spears into a glimmering golden barrier.

"Cease fire!" He yelled, his voice easily carrying over the din of Holy Light exploding. "Status report." He demanded seizing the nearest Power, one he noted had not been futilely trying to over a barrier designed as the last obstacle preventing someone from entering their Father's Palace.

"Lord Michael, Lady Gabriel." The Power started only for Michael to clasp him on the shoulder.

"No need for the formalities soldier, what's going on here?"

"Milord witnesses say that a 12-winged angel appeared minutes ago and proceeded up the stairs to our Father's Palace."

He was confused something he rarely was. Sure a 12-winged angel was incredibly rare, most of them choosing to reside in the Seventh Heaven close to Father's Throne, and one of them coming down was even rarer, but it should not have been cause for any alarm.

"What's the issue then?" Gabriel asked. "Surely seeing one of the Seraphim should not be enough to raise the alarm."

"Milady, none of us raised the alarm. It activated as soon as she stepped foot on the stairs."

Now that was worrying, none of the Seraphim should have set off the alarms which meant. "We have a rogue angel." Michael said grimly. The powers of an angel rose dramatically with every pair of wings they earned. A 12-winged angel could command prodigious powers, though they were still limited by the caste and sphere that they were originally created to serve in. Any angel through sufficient training and dedication would be able to achieve 12 wings and claim the title of Seraph.

"Gabriel." He commanded, turning to his sister. "Go…gather our brethren and follow after me." She nodded knowing exactly who it was she was gather. "Step back." The Powers that gathered in front of the shield moved away as he flared his prodigious powers for the first time in millennia, summoning spears of light. Thousands of golden spears blotted out the horizon, each baring the magnificent radiance and holiness of God. This was the power of a Seraph, the strongest of God's Soldiers and the mightiest of Heaven's children. To those that had fought in the war they were death incarnate, their sheer power enough to completely erase any mid-class devil that dared look upon their celestial forms. In the wake of the first Armistice, their powers had been forgotten, written off as myth stories that were used to cling to honors long past.

The World may have forgotten them, but Michael reminded them.

In a moment he reminded those gathered exactly why it was that He led the Armies of God, that he was God's treasured General and the only Angel that Lucifer never faced alone. Why only God himself could command him and entire civilizations trembled at his decrees. As his hand rose the light of a thousand thousand stars descended smashing into the barrier, shattering it into pieces.

Yet even as his power broke the barrier countless times, countless times it reformed, and he was barely able to slip through the cracks before they closed in on him.

* * *

Running up the steps, taking them three at a time he could only wonder at the soundness of his Father's mind when he decided that a literal Stairway to Heaven was needed when just about every denizen of that could reach this far had the ability to fly. It didn't help that the divine miracle his Father had brought into existence also prevented anyone from flying across this section lest they wanted to meet a swift and untimely end via Heaven's version of a flak cannon. And to top it all off he hadn't realized how out of shape he was, once upon a time he could run up these steps and not even be winded, yet now he was only a third of the way up them and he felt like his lungs and legs were on fire. Even in his haste to reach the Throne room, even as his body complained about the sudden bout of exercise he still couldn't help but notice the silence that surrounded him upon entering the barrier.

He had expected sounds of battle as the angels stationed in the Seventh Heaven moved to intercept the intruder but he heard nothing.

It was...ominous.

A feeling that he had never before felt, and one that should not have existed in the Heart of the Most Holy's Home. With grim determination he sped up hoping that his brothers and sisters would be okay, that Gabriel and the other Seraphim would soon follow in his wake. When at last he cleared the steps, he spread his wings to their full glory and kicked off the ground hard, soaring with the utmost speed as he navigated the twisting turns and eddies that surrounded his Father's seat. The Seventh Heaven had been his Father's personal refuge, his bastion, and should all of Heaven fall it was meant to be an unbreakable citadel in which the angels could counterattack from, and as such it was separated from the other levels of Heaven and consisted solely of a large fortress whose grandeur was only fitting as the seat of the Most Holy. Steel Sentinels stood silent vigil along the ramparts, divinely forged lances held in hand as they watched ever vigilant. Several turned towards him, the Holy Light contained within burning with barely controlled fury, before his own light reacted and flagged him as friendly.

Frowning at the lack of action on the sentinels part, they should've already apprehended or eliminate the intruder, he dove down and landed on the roof.

Even Azazel, the Leader of the Fallen Angels, the Grigori, only had 10-wings and when the 6th pair was gained an angel's powers were nothing short of terrifying. With the merest thoughts they could bend reality around them, their minds linked to the System, giving them partial omniscience, and the ability to perceive possible paths into the future. Not only could they work to divine the future but using the System it was possible for an angel to travel through time and control it to a certain degree. Not to mention the increase potency of their Holy Light as well as they damage they could do with nature itself. Raising storms with but a whisper they could even fight minor gods to a standstill and major ones in sufficient numbers.

There had only been one 12-winged angel cast from Heaven, the Morningstar himself, Lucifer.

Azazel was an anomaly in that he gained his 6th pair of wings outside of the influence of Heaven, and as such the specifics of his power weren't known.

Approaching the massive portcullis he frowned when he saw it wide open and Angels going about their business without a care in the world. It was as if they didn't realize that Heaven itself had been infiltrated and that the perpetrator was even now somewhere within their midst.

As he got closer he noticed that the other Seraphim, those 12-winged angels whose sphere was the closest to Father and were charged with his protection, had formed two neat rows, their backs against the walls as they held ceremonial and highly decorative spears in their right hand and pristine shields of golden light in their left. As one their visored barbute helms turned towards him, causing a shiver to go down his spine. When he was a child those faceless helms had frightened him, as he clutched at his Father's robes for protection. These silent sentinels had been with his Father ever since he could remember. These silent sentinels had been with his Father ever since he could remember, a remnant from an age past, his Father would answer when questioned about them.

He had never seen one without its helm, its gender a complete mystery, he didn't even know if there was a living, breathing being under the armor, but he now millenia later their silence was an eerie thing that put him on edge.

One of them stepped forward blocking his path, and if one were to glance at it they would be unable to distinguish it from any other Sentinel. Only those who had been in their presence long enough would be able to tell the subtle differences based on the armor they wore. A slight flourish here, a slightly different litany there, each of the Sentinels could only be distinguished by their armor, as he had yet to find any behavioral cues capable of differentiating them. This one he remembered simply as the "Captain" as all the other sentinels seemed to defer to it and it had at one point been his Father's silent shadow.

It stared hard at him for several moments, his body unable to move under its heavy gaze, until at last it turned around, the smallest of movements from its shoulder indicating that he should follow it. As the Captain moved the other Sentinels respectfully stepped out of its path, their backs against the wall as their helms continued to track him until they were physically no longer able to turn.

Corridor after corridor, each with immobile Sentinels, after a while he began to lose track of everything. The very air seeming to mess with his mind confounding him, his eyes could not be trusted as they seemingly walked upside down or up a wall at random intervals. Truly should any invader make it to the 7th Heaven they would find themselves hopelessly lost and disoriented.

After what seemed like an eternity, his nerves growing more and more frayed as he had yet to hear anything about the intruder, the Captain simply led him to a pair of wooden doors that while massive in size were simply slabs.

His guide stepped to the side as he felt its gaze burrowing into him, telling him to step forward and open the doors. Nervously he reached out and pushed his palm against it, the doors slowly grinding open with a rumble.

What he stepped into was not what he expected.

A seemingly endless hallway or whtie marble and golden decor, torches and braziers on either side of a long red carpet. At the farside he could see a raised dais, with a throne of silver.

The sheer Holiness of this place almost drove him, one of the first angels to have been created to his knees, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he did his best not to weep. Memories of happier times, of times when there was no distinction between them, when the Angels were still united. Playing in the Gardens as his Father watched on, tussling with his siblings, and learning at Father's side. Unlike the later generations of angels that were brought into existence fully grown and formed, they the first generation had all had a childhood.

Lucifer

Michael

Gabriel

Penemue

Azazel

Sahariel

Shemhazai

Uriel

Amaros

Baraquiel

Kokabiel

Raphael

Tamiel

… and Raguel

Of them only Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel and himself remained with Father, the rest Fallen or cast out of Heaven by his own hand.

His gaze drifted to his hand, and for a moment he could see it dyed red, stained with blood as he killed his younger siblings, those Fallen who had rebelled against Father. He could see their faces, memories of their lives flowing through him with each life he took.

He was broken.

If Father was still here then maybe things would've been different. Maybe he could've been saved...but Father was no longer here.

He, a broken shell of an Angel, found meaning in the suffering, working to carry out his Father's last Will, an atonement for failing to be with him in his last moments.

Heedless of the tears that spilt from his eyes, he approached the dais, no longer able to hide the cries of anguish as he saw the state that the Seat of Heaven was in.

Once brightly shining and glowing with a luster of holiness, it was now a decrepit thing, tarnished and frail, looking like the slightest touch would break it.

However a sound, one that he had not heard in millenia echoing through the Halls of Heaven drew his attention. Looking over he couldn't help but wonder how he missed it, how his eyes which were able to see across all the realms and into the hearts of man was able to miss the silver cradle that sat next to the throne.

The cries of a babe, drew him to the cradle, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth as he gazed upon the new life. In that moment he saw potential, he saw the ability to do amazing, wondrous things, and the vilest and most horrific deeds. Just by looking at him he could tell, that somehow the infinite potential of man, and the very power of the Heavens unshackled by the power of Free Will, had come together to form this child.

For a moment he was afraid, his thoughts drifting to other such beings that had once existed millenia ago, sired by the Grigori upon mortal women, those nephilim had been abominable.

But looking now upon the fruits of a deed so similar he couldn't help but reach out to the child. Swaddled in white blankets, the child's eyes lay close, at least until his finger got closer.

Eyes of burning emerald fire stared back at him, and he couldn't help the cold sensation that went down his back as he stared into those jewel-like eyes.

The child stared up at him, and then giggled.

The last thing he thought he would ever hear was the holder of those eyes ever giggling. Mocking him, cruel threats and horrific punishments were the norm but never giggling.

The sound immediately put him on edge, and it was then that he noticed that he could see his breath.

The quiet eerieness from before, was not the solemn sound of remembrance, the Sentinels not silent out of respect for their Lord, but at the thought of what had come.

They did not worry about the intruder, because it wasn't just an intruder, it was a force of nature that had returned, it was the will of their Father and their Lord.

Afterall how could they stop that which was created to be the Companion of God, his friend and confidante.

His Punisher and Vengeance made manifest.

Another giggle from the child, his breath hitching as a silver pinion descended to land on the child's crib.

Numbly he reached out and picked it up, recognizing the power of one of the True Seraphim, his own resonating with it, and all but confirming his thoughts.

Looking up he saw her descending on 12 resplendent argent wings. Wisps of smoke emanating from her wings as her mere presence plunged the temperature to near freezing.

Clad in robes of cream and armored in the ways of old, when the Seraphim had pushed back the Darkness. Greaves and vambraces inscribed with litanies of hate and fury, or warning and woe to any who ignored them. A silver breastplate trimmed in gold with a raised cross. She wore no helm, her ruby hair aflame with cold fire emanating from Cocytus itself, and like him her armor held a shard of Divinity, their Father's very essence protecting them and bolstering their already prodigious might.

Devil and demon trembled at the sight of her, the proud humbled, the defiant brought to their knees and the unbroken shattered before the cleansing light of Heaven's Seraphim. At her voice storms were raised, the morale of the faithful hardened and turned to fanaticism, her wings beat with the sound of thunder, as she soared over the battlefield.

She gazed down at him, her eyes holding none of the innocence of the child in front of him, but all so similar.

He couldn't help it, his body unconsciously taking a step back away from the crib, as he stared up into the malicious eyes of his sister.

The one who had sent bears to maul 42 children to Death for their insults to Eliseus.

The Destroyer of Sodom and Gomorrah, she who turned Lot's wife to a pillar of salt.

The Tester of Job.

The Angel of Disaster and Disease.

The Angel of Genocide.

"Hello Michael." Her voice sultry, and smoky, like a lover's caress. Mortal's would instantly fall for her with but a whisper, her every whim catered to her by them, just for a chance at a second glance, at something more than the merest moment in her presence. It was a dichotomy that he was unable to figure out, the two sides of Cruelty and Seductiveness.

Seeing her here, it was the final piece, the last confirmation he needed. All his fears, everything that he thought might happen today. Nothing could have prepared him for this, and all he wanted to do at the moment was go back to his office and do some more paperwork.

Seeing the smirk on her lips, the sense of superiority she radiated in his presence, he whispered, "Raguel."

The Lord's Cruelest Angel had returned.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Come now brother, don't be so shocked to see me." Raguel smirked, her caligae touching the floor lightly, her 12 argent wings glowing with barely suppressed light. "You would think that you'd seen a ghost."

"But you -"

"Died?" Raguel asked, tilting her head cutely. Or at least it would've been cute if he didn't think that his sister was unhinged. He'd never go against his Father's wishes, never think ill of him, but when it came to Raguel he personally thought that his Father, who was correct in all things, had screwed up when he created her. "Well I guess you could say I did. Let me tell you reincarnating as a human and living a mortal life is quite difficult. But it's something that you eventually get used to. Good job by the way."

"Wha-"

"You know the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Witch Trials, I didn't think you had it in you." Seeing his gobsmacked expression, she continued. "You know I was right there alongside you, saw your handiwork firsthand at the battle for Milvian Bridge. Good job with that whole Chi-Rho painting on the shields thing. It was really creative imbuing a ward into the paint that way when you rained down spears they would automatically swerve to avoid anyone bearing the mark."

"What are -"

"And don't even get me started on the whole Maxentius thing." Raguel grinned, a smile that would've scared children away and completely destroyed the notion of angels being friendly beings that frolicked in the clouds and sang about peace and love. "I mean I can understand knocking him off his horse to make it a fair right, but knocking him into the Tiber and than planting your foot on his head and holding him there to drown. That's something I would do." Her smile grew as the malevolence in her eyes became plain to see. "In fact it makes me proud, Brother, that you're taking after me."

"Enough Raguel." He didn't know if it was because he had finally gotten over the shock of seeing his least favorite sibling, or if it was because of the fact that she thought he was becoming more like her, but it was enough. Holy Light gathered in his hands as he prepared himself to smite her, but before anything more than the merest whisper could gather he found himself suddenly powerless.

"Ah, ah, ah." Raguel chided, condescendingly wiggling her finger back and forth as she stared at him. "Our powers don't work here."

Before the conflict between the two of them could escalate the cries of the babe reached them. _Her son._ Michael thought, wondering if it was because of the child that she had sought out the Seat of their Father's power.

Raguel was at the child's side in an instant, moving faster than even his enhanced vision could perceive as she picked him up and held him to her breast. "Shh, shhh, mommy's got you." Raguel cooed to her son, gently rocking him in her arms. "The wind blows low and mournful through the scrath of Dalnacreich, where once there lived a woman who would a mother be. For twelve long years a good man's wife, but ne'er the cradle filled…"

As he heard her sing he couldn't help but wonder if this was the same sister that had once kept a devil alive as she vivisected him and made him watch as she removed organs and turned them into ash in front of his eyes. Seeing her like this, with a child in her arms as she sung a song of warning and sadness, the child slowly drifting asleep in her arms, it was startling to say the least. The smile that he had learned to fear was absent and in its place was one of warmth and hope, one that he had only fleetingly caught directed at her sisters.

Gabriel, Sariel, Penemue, and Raguel.

The strongest of God's daughters.

The four of them had been closer to each other than to any of their other siblings.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing." Ah she had finished one song and immediately branched into another one. "Mama will bring you a demon's skin."

And there was the terrifying sister that he remembered.

"Raguel." He called out to her, doing his very best to hide the nervousness in his voice. After all his sister wasn't the most stable of people, and he really didn't want to set her off when there was a child present. Not that he thought she would ever put her child in harm's way, it was just that she was known for collateral damage.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with annoyance as she stopped rocking the babe in her arms.

"Michael." She acknowledged, before turning back to her son.

"Raguel." Michael repeated.

His sister turned glaring at him through a single hooded eye, the babe in her arms as if sensing his mother's feelings stirred. He was the strongest soldier of God, the General of Heaven's armies, he most certainly did not whimper when eyes of baleful emeralds glared at him telling him to leave.

He did not retreat, but instead made a strategic withdrawal in the opposite direction, giving her some space.

He didn't know how long he stood there, watching as his sister slowly put her child, _my nephew,_ he suddenly thought to sleep. But all he did know was that while waiting Raguel had leaned back to take a seat, a silver throne forming under her, gently guiding her to a position that she could relax in.

He had tried to do the same only to have to catch himself, materializing a seat out of Holy Light when a throne failed to catch him.

He shot her an annoyed look as she didn't even try to hide her smirk.

At last she stopped, placing the child into the crib as she stood up, the seat dissipating into motes of light.

"Come." She commanded, her serious demeanor returning as she refrained from any small talk. Together they approached the dais of their Father, both of them falling to their knees in supplication as they stared at the ground before the throne.

For a few minutes they knelt there, Michael beginning to fidget uncomfortably until finally he stood, looking around him. _Too much time has passed. _

"They won't come." Raguel said, still kneeling in front of the Throne. She didn't need to turn to see the confusion on his face. "The others, Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, I have them flying endlessly, the castle and the dimension constantly shifting to put it just out of their reach."

A shiver of fear ran through him as he reevaluated his sister. If he had any doubts of her power, his silent thought was that she weakened and seeking refuge with them, they were banished with that sentence.

If she had been weakened in any form then she would not have been able to bend reality so easily.

A few minutes more, Raguel continued to kneel before the Throne as he stood by her side.

Time and time passed, the silence growing more and more oppressive, the tension between the two siblings mounted as Raguel ignored his presence to bow before the Throne.

Finally though, Raguel looked up in puzzlement, and getting up from her kneeling position approached the dais.

"I don't understand." He could hear her mutter as reached out to touch the Throne of their Father, delicate yet strong fingers tracing the tarnished silver. "Father? Where are you?"

Michael's heart sank as he remembered exactly how long Raguel had been gone for.

The Great War.

Did his Sister even know how it ended?

How their Father fell protecting them?

Protecting him?

"Michael." She asked, her voice lacking the confidence nay arrogance that he normally attributed to her. "Where is Father?" Dare he say it, it was like a child wondering where their Father was. She turned to him, her eyes misty unable to comprehend the lack of the Divine presence that she had been expecting to greet her.

"Raguel." He spoke softly, gently, still wondering how he would break the news to her. "Father is dead." There better to rip the bandage off in one go then to exacerbate the problem by delaying it.

For a moment Raguel stared at him, her face scrunched up in disbelief before all of a sudden she burst out laughing. Now this wasn't sweet laughter or full belly laughter that comes from hearing a funny joke, no this was a mocking laughter tinged with insanity.

It immediately set him on edge.

"You are a fool Michael." She chided, wiping a tear from her eye. "You actually believe that our Father, the purest, most powerful God to have ever existed died?"

The next moment all he knew was pain as he was thrown against the far wall, his sister's emerald eyes blazing with rage. "I should rip that blasphemous tongue of yours out and present it to Father." A dainty hand gripped him by the throat holding him aloft as hand motes of light began to gather in her free hand.

"Our powers don't work here." He struggled to say, her hand cutting off the circulation to his brain.

"I lied." She shrugged. "Your powers don't work here, but I as the Friend of God, the angel whose sphere is the Seventh Heaven, and who stands beside the Throne of God, what good would I be if I were powerless to protect Father.

"But you didn't!" Michael all but screamed, and while his powers may not work against his sister, there were other means of hurting her.

Namely his armored head met her unarmored forehead with a sickening crunch that send her stumbling back clutching at her head. One hand massaged his throat as his right one went for the sword on his hip. "WHERE WERE YOU WHEN FATHER FELL! WHERE WERE YOU, THE SO CALLED 'PROTECTOR OF THE THRONE', WHEN FATHER MET HIS END!"

He hesitated, for a moment remembering all the blood on his hands, all his siblings who had met their end at the edge of his sword.

The old Michael, the one that had fought during the height of the Great War wouldn't have hesitated to separate Raguel's head from her shoulders.

Peace had turned him soft...and his hesitation proved to be a mistake.

With the enhanced healing that all angels possessed but overcharged with the frankly world breaking abilities that Seraphim had she was healed in an instant, and in her hand a thorned whip.

But it was her right hand that froze him, in her hands an arming sword of purest silver, inlaid with enochian sigils and runes. Unlike the weapons that most angels crafted from either Light or Holy Light, this was a physical weapon, one whose nature lent itself towards the function of the angel. Only the original angels had them, and each blade had the angels name inscribed on it.

Raguel's sword had the ability to permanently destroy a being, shredding the very soul or essence of whatever it struck. Death was one thing, only their Father knew where an angel went when they were killed, but to have your very being repeatedly shredded and reassembled for eternity in what Raguel thought of as punishment, that was a fate he'd like to avoid.

However before the first and final blow could be struck a hand laid itself on his sister's shoulder, gently squeezing.

He let himself breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that his other sister would be able to temper Raguel's responses.

"That's enough." Gabriel said, her gentle voiced hiding a core of steel underneath it. "Please don't hurt him."

"Blasphemy." Raguel hissed threatening to shake off her sister's hand. "He dares to say that Father died."

"Raguel." Gabriel spoke, her voice tinged with sadness as she turned her sister around to face her. She didn't resist, Gabriel being one of the only angels to have ever spent time with her, many of the other originals seeing what she did as distasteful at best and downright heretical at worst. "Raguel." The hand left her shoulder, and for a moment she feared her sister would push her away, only for the hand to reach up and cup her face. "How long has it been sister?"

She smiled a genuine smile, leaning into her sister's touch reassuring her that she was in fact here. "Too long little sister." Her smile grew at the adorable pout that Gabriel wore.

"We're the same age."

"Maybe, but I'm the one that took care of you didn't I?" Raguel smirked, her expression lacking the usual cruelty and arrogance that it normally had. "I remember quite fondly the little girl who fell from a tree, and clung to my robes bawling her eyes out."

"And I remember the little girl who threatened the tree that dared to hurt her precious sister, before spending the rest of the afternoon trying to incinerate it with your gaze alone." Gabriel fired back, smiling as she held her sister.

"It never hurt you again did it?"

"It would be hard for it to hurt me when it had been reduced to ash." Gabriel deadpanned.

"Um excuse me, I'd hate to break up this reunion but there's a bit of an issue." The two sisters turned towards their brother, one with annoyance the other exasperation.

Raguel's sword which hadn't moved even with the appearance of her sister was now glowing ominously. "Oh dear oh dear." Raguel mockingly chided. "What have you been doing Michael?"

"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked, stepping beside her sister.

"Michael here has been a bad boy." Raguel sing-songed. "Ius here wouldn't be like this if it didn't want me to judge the one in front of it."

"I don't -" Michael tried to defend himself.

"Stop." Raguel commanded, her words like a divine command, the sword in her hand flaring in response as chains shot from the floor to immobilize her brother.

"Sister." Gabriel gently chided, pushing the blade away from their brother. Ius, the sword of judgment, whose chains would bind the accused as only truth flows from their lips. She had no fear of the sword besides its sharpened edge as she was confident her sister would never use it on her. "Release him."

Raguel stared at her for a moment, her eyes seeing nothing but a core of steel hidden behind the gentle and buxom form of her sister. "You've changed."

"It was time." Gabriel remarked, Raguel physically flinching at the coldness of her words. "The Great War changed us all. Whether we wanted to or not."

Never taking her eyes off her sister, her voiced laced with concern she sheathed her sword, and turned to take Gabriel in her embrace. "What happened?"

"You weren't there." Michael said sorrowfully, and negative feelings he had for his sister suppressed to tell her the truth. For a moment he felt like twisting the story, using it to jab at her as she had done so many times before to him. But he stayed his hand, the truth would cut deep enough as is. "In the final battle, Father died, protecting us. Protecting me."

For a moment he saw the rage in his sister's eyes, how her hand twitched towards her sword, and he feared that not even Gabriel would be able to protect him. When he heard the air whistle, and the hissing of steel as it slid out of its scabbard he was resigned. _Maybe when I see Father, he will have forgiven me for all that I did. _He thought, only to never feel the blow coming. Hesitantly he opened his eyes and saw Raphael and Uriel swords drawn and resting lightly on Raguels shoulders. Gabriel had stepped to the side, refusing to pick a side.

"Uriel." Raguel said unflinching in the face of death. "Raphael."

"Raguel." They both answered.

"Put the sword away Raguel." Raphael commanded.

"Why don't you go chase after Azazel again." Raguel snapped back. "Besides I'm not going to kill him."

"It sure looked like you were going to." Uriel snarked.

"I've just gotten sick and tired of looking at the useless meat suit that he's wearing. I want to look my Brother in the eyes, and I want him to tell me. Tell me that our Father, the most perfect, most powerful, and all knowing Lord died. I want to hear the heresy spilling from his corrupted lips, and when I do I'll tear that blasphemous tongue from his mouth and present it to our Father.

Michael nodded figuring that this would be the quickest option stepped back and spread his arms. Where before he was a handsome man of average height with golden locks and hay lie wheat, his expression fixed in an almost permanent melancholic frown, he was now divine.

The so called "meat suit" that Raguel had called his human form melted away to reveal a core of Holy Light, tendrils stretching and churning from it as pieces of golden armor slowly formed to encapsulate the energy. Golden armor grew to 10 feet tall as a white tabard trimmed in blue slowly moved over the armor. A plumed corinthian helm topped the armor, but where there was supposed to be a face there was only darkness. Golden wings polished to a luster unobtainable by any mortal had lost their feathery appearance and were now metallic and sharp. One of his massive gauntleted hands held a golden spear, whose head radiated Holy Light.

She was forced to turn away, her eyes unable to see into what was called by many, the very heart of Heaven, the source of their own powers. During the war many foolish Fallen had dared to stare into the light, only to be driven mad by what they had seen.

Looking to her right and her left she saw that Raphael and Uriel had donned their true forms as well, Uriel surrounded by flames, and Raphael surrounded by a weird dichotomy of light that was both gently and harsh at the same time. Something that she thought fit him as both the angel of healing and his stoic nature. Gabriel herself had remained in her human form and moved to her side.

"Michael." She greeted him, her tone respectful, knowing that she could never beat her brother in a fair fight. The only reason that she was able to get away with so much was the fact that she had terrified him when they were both children, and that she was among the first angels. Looking into the faceless helm was eerie, but she stared at him defiantly daring him to tell her that their Father had died.

She could feel his gaze boring into her, questioning her, wondering why she hadn't joined them. "I've quite attached to this body." She smirked, running her hands up and down her curves. "It's not as restricting as some of the others I've worn. Now Michael, tell me." She said growing serious.

"Raguel." His voice boomed, the sound seemingly coming from everywhere at once, his tone laced with sorrow. "Father died. Our Lord, the Most Holy himself fell in battle taking with him the Lucifer, Asmodeus, Leviathan, and Beelzebub."

"No." Raguel refused shaking her head. "Why do you keep saying that Michael?"

"The four of us," he gestured to himself, Raphael, Uriel, and Gabriel, "charged across the lines of the Devils to get to Father, but it was too late."

"He fell in battle, protecting us." Gabriel said sorrowfully, Raguel turning to face her.

"Uriel?" She turned to her Brother, who had refused to meet her gaze. "Raphael?" Even his stoic demeanor broke and a single tear landed on the floor. "Even you Gabriel?" Raguel muttered.

"I'm sorry, Raguel." Michael stated, reaching out his hand and laying it gently on his sister's shoulder. The two of them were like ice and fire, their relationship fluctuating between antagonistic and neutral, but in this moment they were family.

"Gabriel please, take her to her room." Michael motioned for them to leave, only to stop as an iron hand gripped his pauldron.

"Michael." The voice sent shivers down his spine, her tone as cold as cocytus. He watched as mist slowly began to rise from the floor. A moment ago she had been standing on the tips of her toes as she struggled to reach his shoulder with her hand, but slowly her form grew. The body that she wore melted away, leaving behind a core of Holy Energy so cold that it burned at the slightest touch. Tendrils of energy grazed Uriel, Raphael and his armor, forcing them to take a step back as it disintegrated all that it touched. Mottled armor of grey and black, gothic in design with two sharp upwards curving horns like a ram's jutted from the pauldron. She did not wear a helm instead a tattered hooded tabard covered her, an icy breath spewing from the blackness of that hood. Her wings once bright and cold silver, were now ethereal wisps of smoke. She now stood equal to him in height, the spear in his hands pulsating with Holy Light as it drove off the cold that her presence brought. "I told you didn't I?" Her voice was terrifying, even Gabriel who trusted her sister implicitly, took a step back at the harshness of her tone. "That I would rip that blasphemous tongue out of your skull."

She took a menacing step forward, her brothers unsheathing their swords as they readied themselves to fight.

"Enough Raguel." Gabriel commanded, grabbing the cloth of her sister's tabard and literally jerking her back. "Michael isn't lying." Her hand dropped from the garment. "Not about this." She said sorrowfully.

"It doesn't make any sense." Raguel spoke softly, anger still in her voice as she struggled to maintain an even tone. "You tell me that Father died, but he spoke to me."

Heads whipped around to face her, faces displaying a range of emotions from confusion to joy, to anger. "What?"

"Not even one day ago, Father spoke to me, he answered my prayers as my mortal form lay battered and wounded. He saved me, and saved his grandson from a being of darkness."

"Grandson?" Gabriel questioned, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of children.

"A Devil?" Michael asked, and though she couldn't see it she could feel his eyes narrowing at the idea of a devil getting so close to an infant with the intent to hurt it.

"A human, lost on the path of darkness. Barely worth a thought as I am now, but a challenge before I regained all my powers."

Her brothers stared blankly at her, questioning gazes hitting her. "When I left a severed my Grace." She saw them physically recoil at her words, the very idea of an angel separating themselves from the very thing that made them angels in the first place, was horrifying. The pain that must've come from the self-mutilation had been unimaginable, but at the time she had thought it was a price well worth paying if it meant that she could run away from all her troubles. "I've lived in a constant cycle of death and rebirth. Regaining my memories on my 11th birthday, remembering each of my previous lives but never forgetting who I was."

"Father spoke to you?" Uriel asked hesitantly.

"I thought he had rejected me, cast me aside for what I did, but when I called to him he answered. He was there to welcome me back into his embrace, and he restored me to the height of my power. I, a sinner, a worthless daughter, one who rejected her Father, was welcomed back into the fold. I fight-" Holy Light began flaring from her being, rays shooting forth from the gaps in her armor. "Not in the name of myself, or any cause."

* * *

Deep within the 7th Heaven ancient gears began to turn once more, the eldritch machines that made up the System of God resonating with the power of another one of the Seraphim.

* * *

"I fight for Father, for the dream that he had."

* * *

Prayers and miracles, blessings that had laid forgotten, weakened with the passing of the Most Holy, slowly began to awaken. Michael had done the best that he could, but he was no God, and many things had to be sacrificed to protect the core tenets. The Heavenly System, heard all prayers, governed all the spheres of Heaven and the sacred gears, found itself with a sudden excess of energy.

* * *

"For peace."

* * *

A lone exorcist, cried tears flowing down her face as she was surrounded by demons, the blade of light in her hand dimming at the darkness from which the hellspawn clawed their way out of. Death was all but inevitable, the question simply which one of them would strike the killing blow.

* * *

A mother screamed, praying for the safety of the child, as men tore at her clothes. Blows rained down on her as she shielded the babe as best she could. A rosary clutched in her hand.

* * *

All around the world, people prayed, they begged for salvation. Whether they were at a Church, out in the field praying on a makeshift cross or had simply taken a moment out of their day to offer their deepest fears to the Lord and ask for him to give them the strength to see it through.

"For the hope of a better tomorrow."

"Our Father bore a crown of thorns, and shouldered all the suffering of the world."

At each and every moment people died, hands reaching out skywards. They believed in his teachings, in the teachings that were his ideals. They lived by the cross, as the world scorned them, faith was all that they had.

Blessed be those who believe without seeing.

* * *

In an instant Holy Light exploded from the Throne, bathing the entirety of Heaven and forcing all but Raguel to their knees.

"We are his angels, his will made manifest. Faith and fire, steel and Light, we fear nothing for he is our Armor. His wrath as he is my zeal, the bane of his foes and the fear of the treacherous.

* * *

Hope surged through her breast, the blade of light, suddenly glowing with a brilliance only exceeded by a Holy Sword. She stared at the weapon on wondrous awe as the Darkness was driven back, the demons that were approaching her, depravity and sinful thoughts lurking within them, fleeing in the face of the purifying light. Where before she was filled with despair, now she felt invigorated, and with a cry on her lips she charged, sparing none of the demons that had killed her friends.

All around the world those that despaired, stood up, and in a single voice said. "No more!"

* * *

The door was thrown open as a single neighbor, one who refused to ignore the sounds of struggle rushed into the apartment and killed her assailants. She stared battered and weeping as a hand reached out towards her. Instead of flinching she reached out and was pulled into his warm embrace, falling unconscious knowing that her child was now safe.

* * *

"Even in Death our Duty does not end. You say that Father died, well then our Duty lies with him." She stared at each of her brothers. "The tip of his spear." The weapon in the Eldest's hand glowed brightly. "The mail around his fist." Raphael squeezed his hand shut, for a moment imagining himself back on the battlefield. "The flight of his arrow." A bow of scorching Holy fire materialized in his hand, the temperature skyrocketing at the presence of the Holy weapon. "It is our Duty to do what must be done."

* * *

In the Darkness of the Underworld a second sun bloomed, illuminating the entire realm and sending the entirety of the Devil population into a panic. Holy Light shot from the sun, its rays powerful enough to send demons scurrying for cover. A crimson headed Devil watched with narrowed eyes, his fellow leader raising his hand and summoning a magic circle large enough to protect the entire city.

* * *

Oaken doors parted, the slumbering God stirring once more at the return of his daughter. "My child."

* * *

The First Children of the Lord stiffened at the presence that washed over them. "Is that?" Gabriel asked, hope rising in her breast as tears threatened to pour from her eyes.

"Gabriel, the time of conservation is over. Father is out there!" Raguel declared. "Sound the horn."

She turned towards Michael, her brother numbly nodding as he processed what had just happened. Father was still out there, he was alive!

But then why did he not return?

Why did he only answer Raguel's call?

Every moment of everyday, not only he, but all his siblings prayed for his return. He prayed for Father's guidance, but was only met with silence.

A pang of jealousy jabbed his heart as his sister reached to her waist and drew a ram's horn inlaid with gold and enochian sigils.

Gabriel didn't hesitate, her lips wrapping around the opening as she blew it with all her might.

* * *

In another part, on land hallowed and consecrated by the very might of Heaven, angels borne on blacked wings watched as the Light rained down on them. What amazed them though was the fact that the Holy Light did not hurt them, even still some thought it an attack, others were unsure, but they all knew it was a sign. Among the eldest of them shock was plain on their face as they felt a call that they hadn't felt in millenia. Almost as one they turned their heads skywards, to their former home.

* * *

In Japan a man dressed as a ninja, felt the call mid flight. Distracted by the feeling he missed his step and instead of hopping from branch to branch he crashed face first into the trunk of the tree. Rather than slide down and fall like a normal person, he instead hit it hard enough the shatter the ancient tree. Landing on his feet he dusted off the pieces of pulp and bark on him as he looked skyward.

* * *

In every part of the world, across every realm, the children of Heaven, Fallen and Pure looked to the Heavens, the Grace within them resonating with the sound of the horn.

A Call to Arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: So it's been a while hasn't it? So far 2020 has turned out to be a horrible year. Living in NY with the COVID otubreak this chapter has been delayed not because I caught the virus but because I decided to volunteer and help. It was nice to use my EMT-B license again though I regret never becoming an EMT-CC or EMT-Paramadic. Next chapter will probably take a while again depending on how badly the year decides to screw us over. This chapter was mostly written and then abruptly stopped due to the virus so it might be a bit disjointed towards the end.

* * *

Chapter 5

"It's done." Gabriel said solemnly, lowering the horn from her lips and clipping it back onto her belt.

"Now to see which one of siblings remain true to Father." Raguel stated, turning her head to glare at Michael out of the corner of her eye. Taking a step away from her siblings she shed her divine form for one that she was more comfortable in, returning to her guise of Lilith Potter.

"You're surprisingly well put together." Gabriel idly commented poking and prodding her sister. At anyone else she might've been tempted to poke them back or give them a verbal tongue lashing but to the sister that she hadn't seen or talked to in millenia she was willing to stomach the occasional poke. "Did you do it yourself or was the mortal born to eventually look like this."

Truly it was a remarkable feat, the mortal shell that her sister was inhabiting was an almost exact replica of what Gabriel remembered her sister to look like when they would lounge in the gardens.

"Who can say?" Raguel carelessly shrugged. "Maybe my essence influenced the child since it was conceived, or maybe it's Father's idea of a joke."

"About that." Gabriel said, taking her sister by the sleeve of her tunic, as she led her to the side. "What happened?" Gabriel asked, gently pushing her sister down as a silver throne materialized behind her. Taking a step back she leaned back an identical throne catching her, as she saw Michael lightly glaring at her direction, specifically at the chair that had failed to catch him earlier. Sticking her tongue out she teased her brother, before going back to Raguel. "You were always strong, refusing to bend or break as the rest of us faltered, but a single mortal almost laid you low?"

"It wasn't just a single mortal." Raguel grimaced. Once upon a time as she strode through the battlefields none had been able to touch her, years had dulled her senses, and being mortal had forced her to restrain her power lest the meatsuit she wore spontaneously exploded. Still it was somewhat embarrassing at how she almost lost to a single human. "You know them, humans embody infinite possibilities and unlimited potential."

"All I hear are excuses." Gabriel teased. "Aww don't pout."

She was not pouting. She was the angel of genocide, the punisher of God, pouting was beneath her.

With a playful roar she launched herself off her chair, Gabriel catching her mid-flight but unable to handle her weight as the two of them tipped over the throne she was on. Neither of them were hurt as they hit the marbled floors, rolling and tussling on it as they had done as children. "Give up!" Raguel smirked, pinning her sister down and holding her arms above her head.

Once upon a time that might've been it, but Gabriel wasn't about to lose, and in a move that surprised her sister the tables were turned. Her sister wasn't the same woman that she had been when her sister left, and Raguel learned that first hand when she found her face pressed against the cold marble as Gabriel sat on the small of her back, smiling. "It seems age is catching up to you Raguel."

"Ger off." Raguel commanded as she tried to move.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Gabriel asked innocently. "Do you want me, the great and powerful Gabriel, princess of Heaven to do something? You know the words to say."

"Mumble mumble."

"I'm sorry I can't hear you." Gabriel commented, cupping a hand to her ear dramatically. "Please speak up."

"I said get off you're heavy!" Raguel said pushing off with both hands and legs and literally flinging her sister across the room.

Flipping to right herself, 12 wings of purest white slowed her descent as she smirked at Raguel. "I believe that's my win."

"Make of it what you will." Raguel huffed looking away.

Before anything else could be said between the sisters a cry from her child stopped the two of them. Faster than even her, Gabriel was right next to the crib cooing over her nephew. "He's the cutest!" Gabriel squealed, picking him up from the crib and beginning to rock him in her arms.

A sudden bout of jealousy hit her as Harry almost immediately quieted in her sister's arms. It had taken nearly a week before Harry would quiet in her arms, and even now her son wouldn't just let anyone touch him. James had tried to hold him only to find himself the victim of accidental magic. Hung from the ceiling by his ankle Harry had teleported himself back into her arms, and she had almost dropped him in surprise. She had laughed and gone to warm some milk as James struggled to get out of their son's spell, every dispelling spell splashing futilely against his ankle, until finally he resigned himself to waiting for the spell to fade away. It had taken over an hour, and when the spell finally failed her husband had fallen to the ground with a groan as the blood had been pooling towards his head.

Good times.

Still she couldn't help but beam at the sight of her sister's ministrations. "I know!" Raguel boasted, adjusting her son in her sister's arms for better support. "Who's the cutest prince of heaven." She cooed. "You are, yes you are."

"He's adorable." Gabriel commented the child opened his eyes and stared back at her with crystalline emerald eyes. "What's his name?"

"Harry." Raguel said, ignoring the stupefied expression that her sister wore.

"Harry." Gabriel repeated testing out the name. "Harry." She said again, "I don't like it."

"Neither do I." Raguel admitted. "But I lost the bet on what to call him."

"Harry." Gabriel deadpanned. "It's so...mundane," she continued. "It's not at all fitting for a Prince of Heaven to be called, Harry."

"What would you call him?" Raguel asked pointedly. Sure Harry wasn't her first, second or third choice, but she wouldn't let her sister make fun of the name without having an offer. "And don't say, Matthew, Mark, Luke or John."

"How about Mathias?" Gabriel asked cutely.

"No." Raguel deadpanned, refusing the french version of the name. She had barely dodged decapitation during the French Revolutions, and even now the only time she had ever gone back to France was during the Great War, the human one that is. No way was she naming her son something french, she was still a proud english woman thank you very much.

"Zachariah?"

"He doesn't have just a stick up his ass but the whole tree." Raguel pointed out.

"Castiel?"

"Is still our sister. Would be confusing between the two of them."

"Job?"

"Now you're being ridiculous." Raguel snarked.

"How about Michael," the messenger of God asked mischievously.

"No." Raguel stared at her sister like she had just grown a second head. "Just no. I'm not inflating our brother's head any more."

Before said brother could protest, they felt another presence join theirs.

"His name." A voice whispered to them, freezing all of their thoughts as they turned their heads towards the ceiling. Standing on the ceiling dressed in all white was a ninja, his face covered in cloth to reveal a pair of startling blue eyes. "Shall be -."

"What in Father's name are you wearing?" Gabriel interrupted.

"You look ridiculous." Raguel commented. Extending her senses she felt out his presence, her eyes widening as she realized who it was hanging from the vaults of the ceiling. "Metatron?"

The Voice of God, the Scribe of Heaven, reached up and pulled his face mask down to smile at them. "Kukukuku."

"Still annoying as ever?" Raguel asked her sister with a raised brow.

"I don't know." Gabriel admitted, "he disappeared shortly after Father's 'death'." She could just picture the air quotes around the word now that they had all felt their Father's presence wash over them.

"The child shall be, Kenji Uzumaki." Metatron announced solemnly.

Silence greeted the declaration as the two sisters turned to look at one another. They nodded, as Raguel threw a fastball of Holy Light at their brother's head.

*Poof*

Once again the two sisters were staring as a wooden log fell to the floor in front of them. "What the fu-"

"Raguel." Gabriel reprimanded.

"Fudge?" The angel of Genocide shrugged, ignoring the accusatory glare her sister was shooting her. "How?"

"I don't know." Gabriel drawled slowly, scanning the room for their missing sibling. Michael, Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, one adorable prince of heaven. "But besides that…wasn't Metatron always like this?"

"No." Raguel responded, taking Harry and putting him back into the crib before positioning herself back to back with her sister. "You'd think that I'd remember something like this. I specifically remember him being a normal angel, a stickler for the rules, maybe a bit conceited but no definitely not a ninja."

"Losing Father may have driven a few of us a bit mad." Gabriel reluctantly admitted.

"You think?" Raguel deadpanned, slowly approaching the log and nudging it with her foot. "Where did he even get a log in Heaven? Did he bring it with him?"

"The Garden?" Gabriel idly commented, still trying to find their wayward brother.

"He better not have taken it from our tree." Raguel hissed.

"I don't think he's that crazy yet." Memories of what happened to the last person that messed with Raguel's favorite spot to lazily lounge under still fresh in her mind. Last she saw Azazel still walked with a bit of a limp whenever the temperature dropped too cold.

"Do not question the Almighty Log." Turning to their right they saw a sheet drop from along the wall revealing the smug looking angel.

"Gabriel."

"Yes sister?"

"Our family has gotten weirder."

"Must be true if even you're thinking about it."

"Metatron!" Michael exclaimed finally noticing his brother's presence.

"How did he not sense him?" Gabriel commented.

'_Michael's grown soft.'_ Raguel thought darkly. That would not do, Michael was the only angel she would acknowledge as stronger than her, she had even made Helel bawl like a baby before he decided to go through his rebellious phase and rename himself Lucifer. For him to be in this weakened form and not the shining pillar of Righteous Justice she remembered was frankly insulting. She'd need to change that.

"It's because I'm the greatest ninja to have ever lived." Metatron said walking towards them and promptly tripping over air.

"Still as clumsy as I remember." Raguel smirked. Michael was at his brother's side, helping him get up as he lay a supportive hand on him.

"Metatron." Michael greeted fondly steadying his brother before cautiously letting him go, almost afraid that he would disappear once more.

"Michael." The Voice of God smiled back, undoing his head wrap his handsome features. Brown hair was slicked backed, a single curl draping down the front of his forehead as warm chocolate eyes looked around the throne room. His voice was powerful, ethereal, befitting the angel that was the conduit through which their father spoke to them. Snapping his fingers a pair of thin wired glasses appeared in his hand and he lazily put them on the bridge of his nose looking like the pinup version of a librarian that she had once seen on a calendar. "It's been a long time."

"That it has." Michael responded careful not to press his brother so soon after his return.

"Where have you been Metatron?" Gabriel asked innocently. If it wasn't so undignified he would've facepalmed at his sister's blunt question.

"After Father died…" Metatron started, his eyes turned down in sorrow. "I had no purpose. I was His Voice, but what use was I when Father no longer was there to convey his message to me. I was his scribe…" In his hand a heavy leather bound book wrapped in chains appeared. "But what use is there for a scribe who no longer has words to transcribe? I'm not like you Michael. I'm no great warrior, I can't pick up a sword and smite down the enemies of our Father. Nor am I like you Gabriel, your voice heralding and proclaiming the Glory of Father. I cannot heal." He said turning to Raphael, "nor can I stand vigil and protect Eden. What use was there for me?"

"You could've stayed." Raguel responded. "You have a mind so you could learn, you have hands so you can fight! Even without Father there to dictate to you, you still carried his word."

Holding up the book and shaking it angrily. Metatron sneered at her, "I'm the Voice of the Lord not his eyes. Do you think that I didn't try to read his word? Look for answers in the tome that he had me transcribe? I can't read it! The first time I tried it my eyes melted at the radiance I beheld, my mind unable to perceive the truths that lay within the book. I don't know about you but for me it is incredibly painful to regrow one's eyes. You have no right to lecture me Raguel, you could've stayed as well! You could've fought beside Father, maybe then he wouldn't have died!"

Raguel couldn't help the smug smile that broke on her face. "Well then it's a good thing that Father's not dead now isn't it." Stretching out her hand she placed two fingers under his chin and closed his jaw with an audible click. "Keep it closed lest you want flies to make their home there." A legitimate fear when their opponent was once known as the "Lord of Flies." Nothing ruined your day quicker than finding out that your body had become nothing more than a living dead husk, infested with hives of demonic insects.

"What did you say?" Metatron whispered, disbelief on his face.

"Father lives!" Raguel proclaimed. "Our most benevolent Lord, the God of Creation, the One True God, you doubted him, but he has proven you wrong."

Metatron turned to his other siblings, and seeing their nods stumbled back. "Why have you called me here?" His eyes drifted down to Raguel's sword, its naked blade glinting in the presence of the Holy Light that they were exuding. "Am I to be punished for failing in my duty?"

Raguel's bloodthirsty smile began to unnerve them, but before she could say anything Gabriel lay a calming hand on his shoulder, shooting a sideways glare at her sister. "No. You are not the only one that's failed, Metatron. Michael, Raphael, Uriel, and I, we all thought that Father perished at the end of the Great War. His presence faded from our senses as he smote Lucifer and laid low Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and the others with the last of his powers. Yet when Raguel called for his aid, Father was there waiting."

"He took me back." Raguel smiled sadly. "Me, the bloodiest and cruelest of his children. With open arms and a warm embrace I regained my position, his love for me never wavering his faith rewarded as I ascended back to his side. At my lowest he gripped me tight and raised me from perdition."

"When Raguel returned, her power bolstered the Heavenly System, empowering it to heights that we haven't seen since Father left us." Michael explained. "At that moment, we heard Father's voice once again. He called for his Children."

"And you hope that with me here, the System empowered as it is, that I will be able to act as a conduit to Father, allowing him to speak through me." Metatron deduced. "And if not that then, maybe my tome would be able to give you some clues as to what's going on."

"Yes." Michael nodded. "But it's more than that. Father called for his children. All of us, no matter the distance, are tied into the System, Gabriel's Horn is a Call that we must answer to."

"I don't know about you but I am looking forward to meeting some of our wayward siblings." Uriel smirked.

"Speak for yourself." Raphael grumbled, not at all looking forward to meeting Azazel.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Penemue." Raguel smiled, eager to reunite with another one of her sisters. She didn't miss the strained smile that Gabriel wore, nor the clenching of her sister's fist.

"If we are to meet with our siblings then it's fitting that we do it in the Gardens." Uriel said. "At least while this is an informal meeting."

"Informal meeting?" Raguel asked with a raised brow. "What's informal about it? Father called for us, so we must obey."

"You forget Raguel, that some of our siblings have been living lives free of Father's teachings, free to indulge in depravity and sin, to experiment with vices denied to them. They may not want to come back."

"Not come back?" Raguel asked dumbly. "Why would they not come back?"

"Probably for the same reason that you left." Raphael sniped back.

She was pensive for a moment, her eyes glazed over before she spoke quietly. "I doubt that." Flicking her fingers she raised the entire crib from the ground, "I'll be going now, sister you know where to find me."

With that said she disappeared in a flash of light and a whoosh, steel like feathers crashing onto the marble ground.

* * *

"Great job." Gabriel remarked pointedly, shooting her brother a glare.

"Am I the only one that thinks that this is too good to be true?" Raphael asked unflinchingly. Gabriel's glare had nothing on the one that Sariel often used on him when he took her men away from "training" to heal them. "Raguel comes back out of the blue and all of a sudden Father is speaking once again."

"What are you suggesting?" Uriel asked. "We all felt Father's presence. He's out there."

"We all saw Father fall." Michael interjected. "Felt as his power faded and joined with the world's energy. The breakdown of the System, the waning of our powers, all signs that Father was no longer with us. But now…" Shaking his head the Leader of the Angels could not understand what was going on. "Now Father's out there, the presence we felt, muted, and weakened was nonetheless his."

"This doesn't bother you Michael?" Metatron asked. "We prayed for Father's return everyday, he never answered us, and yet as soon as Raguel calls for him, he raised her up to her former status. His Angel, his enforcer, the angel of vengeance and punishment. Surely if Father's decided to empower her, then clearly something has gone awry that he wants fixed."

Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel shot barely concealed looks to their eldest brother knowing exactly what it was that Metatron was talking about. The Voice of God might not know the specifics but they knew that Michael had secretly been making deals with the New Satan Faction of the Underworld.

Something that not all of them had agreed on.

"Then again maybe there's no point in stressing over it." Metatron shrugged. "Who are we to question Father's Will? We should look at the positives, after all it's good for us to see one another again."

"That it is." Gabriel smiled, moving to shoot a warning look at her eldest brother telling him to drop the subject. It wouldn't do them any good if Raguel discovered that they were making deals with Devils. Her sister could be…overzealous…when it came to Devils and Demons. She had just gotten her sister back after thinking that she was dead for millenia, there was no way that she was going to let her go again. Not to mention that her sister might be able to lead them back to Father, and there was absolutely nothing that she wouldn't do to get her Father back. "Still though we need to cut this meeting short. Raguel will be waiting in the Gardens, and we need to see which one of our brethren show up."

"They all should, even if it's because of curiosity." Uriel pointed out. "Afterall the last time that the Horn was sounded the Fury of Father was felt in the Underworld." That had been the opening blow to the war, the power of the attack instantly wiping out a third of their entire population and killing many more with exposure to the corrosive abilities of Holy Light. The aftereffects could still be felt as the attack had vaporized much of the oceans, and transformed entire continents into places inhospitable to devils. Water burned like it had been blessed by the strongest of seraphs, the air was filled with Holy Incense scorching not only the skin but immolating the lungs of any devil foolish enough to even breathe in the area, and the ground was impossible to even walk on, skin instantly blistering as if they had touched the True Cross itself.

The attack that had cleansed the filth of the Devils now served as an unassailable fortress and home to the Fallen, who were empowered by the effects of the Holy Light.

With that said the quartet of Heaven's Finest descended from the Seventh Heaven to the Fourth where the Gardens of Eden were.

* * *

How do you even begin to describe the arboreal beauty of the Gardens? Trees of every species, animals of all types freely roamed, a picturesque scene from nature. In the center of the Gardens a single tree stood taller than all others, bearing delectable fruit. Apples juicy and red, plump and perfect hung from the branches daring those who looked at them to take one and bite in. It was under this tree that Lucifer had taken the form of a serpent, it was under this tree that Adam had been given the fruit by Eve forever corrupting humanity with sin.

A marble crib lay underneath the tree, its occupant sleeping soundly swaddled in soft blankets and cushions. Above the crib a woman lay across one of the branches, one arm freely dangling down as she stared at her son, the other bent and acting as a pillow as she remembered all the times that she had relaxed here with her sisters after completing her work.

Simpler times, ones in which Father was always there and she had never doubted his word, a time when there was no Fallen, no devils, just the Angels.

Of course she remembered the times before that, the dark times during the Sundering when the first children of God had turned back the Darkness, where the eldest of all her sisters and the First among Angels had perished to seal away the Primordial Darkness.

Celeste had always been the brightest among all of them, her Light eclipsing Lucifer's with ease, she was the one that they had aspired to be. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't died. Of all of them, hers was the only voice that Lucifer listened to, would she have been able to counsel him? Would she have managed to temper Father's wrath when he personally threw Lucifer out of Heaven?

Sighing to herself she banished such thoughts, it wasn't good to dwell on the past, and hindsight is as they say 20/20. She had made her choices, some good, others bad, and now that she thought about it they were all mostly bad, and they had led her to her current position, and no matter how badly she had screwed up they were her screw ups. After all, staring at one of the fruits of the Forbidden Tree, she had dared to indulge in knowledge and gain free will.

She had dared to partake in that which had caused Adam and Eve to be banished from the Garden, that delicious, succulent, ruby apple that had tempted her at her darkest moment. Father had known, of course he had to know he was omniscient, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. He had watched her carefully, disappointment in his gaze whenever she looked at him. He had been waiting for her to confess, but she never did, and midway through the war when she was dealing the novelty of free will she had made the ultimate mistake.

She simply walked away, tired of being a pawn, tired of being a tool of destruction, of seeing siblings die and become twisted as they reveled in sin and debauchery.

Free Will had made her leave her Father's Grace, and now it was of her own free will that she had returned, reborn in purging flame and righteous anger. She had watched throughout the ages the sin of man amplified by the temptations of devils. She had seen the pure and innocent tempted by the foul existence of devils. Priests fallen to depravity, fathers that raped daughters before killing them and sacrificing their unborn child to form a pact with a devil. Mothers raping sons, offering their own child as well as their tainted wombs to birth hell spawn. Their perversions blackening once pure souls, forever damning them to the deepest pits of Hell, forever denying them the chance to feel his light. Too long had the devils been allowed to run amok among humanity, too long have they dared to prey on the Children of God.

Eyes hardened in righteous anger as her fingers flexed yearning to reach out and strangle the first devil she saw. Plans were already being drafted in her mind, and loath as she was to admit it the Heaven that she had returned to was nowhere near as magnificent as the one she had left.

Without Father they had stagnated...no they had regressed.

The older generations knew though, attempting to pass down the knowledge of the Great War, but the young oft time do not listen to the wisdom of their elders. The power and majesty that they once displayed, which had made most Devils quake in terror or outright flee, was now forgotten. Low and mid class devils actually had the audacity to challenge an angel of even the lowest Order...it was unthinkable.

She would enjoy reminding them of their place in the world. Unworthy to even be the dirt beneath her boots.

A gust followed by the creaking of the branch above her, alerted her to the presence of one of her siblings, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as a copper pinion floated past her face.

"How long has it been since we reclined together?" Her voice was light and melodic, belying a hidden strength. Leaves rustled as her sister adjusted her position, leaning against the trunk and basking in the warm rays that bathed her outstretched wings.

Shifting from her spot the Angel of Genocide shot her sister a look, baleful emeralds meeting amber as the raven haired beauty gazing down at her with a melancholic look. "The others didn't believe me. Even Gabriel doubted...but I knew that one day you'd return."

"Then why are you sad?" Raguel asked, flipping around so that her back was to the branch and she could gaze upwards at her sister.

"Heaven's might is not what it once was. We are but a remnant, a shadow of our former power." Sariel whispered sadly, and as the angel in charge of training the Armies of Heaven it must've galled her to admit the state that their forces were in. "The True Seraphim have been divided, the glories of the past nothing but whispers and rumors remembered as nothing more than fables and stories. I can see the gears already turning in your mind, the pent up outrage that we feel whenever a devil dares to challenge the power of Heaven. Michael has forbidden me from sending them a message, but together we'll make them regret ever thinking about crossing us. We'll rain down fire the likes of which have not been seen since the Sundering. Gabriel remained neutral in deference to Michael and his leadership, but with the three of us united once more, even our Brother will have to yield."

"We will need an army." Raguel mused. "If our current forces are unable to do it, then we'll need something else. Something greater."

The smile that Sariel shot her was absolutely predatory, white teeth glinting dangerously as she licked her lips. "Leave it to me."

For a moment the two locked eyes again and remembered how during the Great War they used to plan and scheme right here under the tree. Gabriel had always been the voice of reason and moderation, Sariel the most marshal of them was always willing to use force to solve their issues, having once said that if violence didn't solve the problem then you're obviously not being violent enough, in fact if Michael hadn't been 'born' first she would've probably been the angel of war, afterall she had met pagan war gods that were less bloodthirsty than Sariel. "For Father." Sariel said solemnly.

"For those who have passed before us." Raguel nodded gravely.

"For those who have yet to be born." Gabriel said leaning back against the base of the tree.

They were quiet for a moment, the three sisters enjoying one another's company, yet for relative ease that the three of them got reacquainted with one another, there was one of them still missing.

_Penemue. _Raguel thought, and as if to prove the saying true, speak of the Devil and she shall appear, another presence joined theirs.

A sense of apathy began to overwhelm them, a feeling that their eternal end drew near, that it was futile to fight against it. A tinkling laugh broke the silence, its sounds like a death knell to those that heard it. Wings of darkest night, drawing to them and snuffing out any hope of light. From the darkness that followed malicious amethyst eyes stared out at them transfixing and bewitching the 3 sisters who dared to look into them. In those eyes they faced the certainty of mortality, that even though they lived thousands of years if the being who stared out at them so wished it their ties to the mortal plane would be severed in an instant. The darkness bubbled and oozed, a twisted pool of annihilation and primordial energy, from which rose a woman of incomparable beauty. She radiated sexuality and power, her armor practical and simple a far cry from the sometimes outlandish getups that other Fallen wore. Looking at her made one think of the darker aspects of pleasure and sex, the domination and submission, the mind numbing pleasure that made men and women putty in her hands. She had no need to be blatant in her apparel as with the merest look no man would be able to resist the urge to kneel before the Fallen woman and call her mistress. She had long dark purple hair, and a smirk as she sneered at her sisters. This seductive woman that wouldn't have been out of place in a man's dreams wasn't in fact fictional, but the most powerful female Fallen of the Grigori, Penemue.

Even Raguel who had been the closest to her stiffened at the sight before her. Where once 12 downy wings of purest white floated behind her, now only ebony remained stained with sin and blood. A mockery of her halo was atop her head, twisting like a crown of shadowy thorns.

"Raguel." Penemue greeted, her smile welcoming but also holding a dangerous edge. "Sariel." The Fallen greeted her two sisters almost kindly, at least the closest approximation to the emotion that she was now capable of emulating.

"Gabriel." Her voice oozed smugness as she stared down the "Princess" of Heaven.

"Penemue." Raguel and Sariel recoiled at the venom in their sister's voice.

"I see." Penemue smirked. "You two don't know what happened do you?" At their silence Penemue could only cruelly laugh. "Shall we show them?" Before Gabriel could respond they were dragged into a memory:

* * *

He remembers.

The Divine Beauty, molded by God.

Every conversation, every word, every moment that they spent together.

The sweet innocent smile of ruby succulent lips.

The meaningless massacres and suffering. The comforting embrace that held him.

Violet hair, splayed on silken sheets.

The shimmering illusion dissolved to show the harsh reality.

The Dark Seductress, reveling in her triumph.

Sapphire eyes, damp with tears.

Betrayal.

The jealousy that brought her pain.

Even now he can feel her presence. So close yet he couldn't reach her even if he held out his hands.

Time has dulled the pain, the memories of her voice, her actions misty with time. Yet in his heart, he knows…He Loves Her.

This is the path he chose. Yet he takes no pride in it.

The both floated there, the air tense in anticipation.

His pained and resigned expression a foil to her triumphant smirk.

* * *

Marble Halls and Golden Arches.

A raised dais with a wondrous Throne, fitting for only for his Lord.

A human, his Lord's favored child, standing amongst His Messengers.

The stout doors to the Throne Room open, revealing a beauty clad in white, His Lord's favored daughter, tears in her eye as she walks to the dais.

In front of the Throne they exchange their vows.

To be each other's wedded. To have and to Hold, from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till Death do them part. In accordance to her Father's Holy Ordinance, and his Lord's Divine Command, they pledged themselves to each other and to no other.

A flash of Golden Light, as divine chains bind the two together.

The pledge accepted, they retire for the night to consummate their marriage.

The fleeting touches turned possessive, as they explored the other's body.

Passion and love, pent up from hundreds of years of skirting the issue, unleashed as they ravaged one another.

What was once hesitant turned fierce and powerful as they reveled in the feelings, the woman whom he loved was in his arms. Together they lay, the bond between them solidifying and becoming impossible to break.

It was during that night that he was shown the truth. The golden doors to their room were thrown open, as a twin to the woman he held appeared.

Golden Blonde hair flowed down her back as her voluptuous figure froze in the doorway. She caught sight of the two of them, and immediately her eyes went wide in shock as tears began to flow.

A hand went to her mouth as she broke down and fell to the floor crying.

Never before had he heard the sounds of sadness come from such a being. Angels were never meant to cry, to have their hearts broken, and her wailing reflected this.

His heart instinctively wrenched at the sound, as he looked confused, his mind unable to comprehend the fact that there were two of the women that he loved, one crying on the marble floors, the other grinning triumphantly as she felt his warmth flooding her womb

She swung a leg over, dismounting him, as 12 wings burst from her back. "I win, Sister." She smirked.

12 wings unfurled from the angel on the ground, as she stared at her sister in disbelief. "Penemue?" She asked hesitantly,

"Who else would it be?" The angel said placing a single hand on her hip, as her form shimmered. Long violet hair splayed across the silken sheets, a stunning figure that easily rivaled her sisters, and beautiful eyes that once sparkled, now held a cruel and triumphant glint.

"Why?" She stammered.

"Because, dearest Gabriel." Penemue said getting off the bed, indifferent to the seed that pooled from her womanhood and ran down her leg. "You refused to act on your feelings, and I refused to let you have another thing that I desired."

With that declaration her 12 white wings began to slowly darken, and rather than fight against it as many other Angels would, she instead embraced the change. Her wings became the color of darkest night, and rather than lose her Halo as all other Fallen did, it instead became corrupted, a twisting shadowy effigy of its former self. She shivered in pleasure as her wings spread proudly. "Now this is power."

"What have you done?" Gabriel asked horrified.

"I've simply embraced what I was meant to be." Penemue responded cockily. "After all what you and I wanted most of all couldn't be done easily as Angels."

She jerked her hand back and the man that both of them loved flew into her grasp, a chain connecting the two of them. "You were always Father's favorite!" She sneered. "Daddy doted on you constantly, leaving poor, little Penemue to fend for herself. And now when we both fell in love with the same man, I refuse to play second fiddle to you anymore."

She grabbed him by the back of his head drawing him down for a soul searing kiss. His struggles were in vain as he didn't want to hurt her at the moment, preventing him from truly pushing her away. She pulled him away, the two of them out of breath, her tongue hanging out as she panted. A thin rope of saliva connected them, before she dove back in, licking and sucking him with a passion, his attempts to escape growing weaker and weaker as he began to enjoy himself.

Once again she pulled away, this time turning towards her sister. "You see, Gabriel, this is something only I can indulge in. Something that only my husband will get to experience."

"Your husband?" Gabriel whispered, before power literally exploded out of her, incinerating most of the room's decorations and furniture. "Dearest sister, I think it's time for me to remind you exactly which one of us is older and stronger." She said her once teary voice now held steel, as she rose to her full height and spread her white wings.

Both sisters ignited their weapons, Gabriel's being a golden spear while Penemue summoned a shadowy kite shield and arming sword.

""HE IS MINE!"" Both sisters screamed in defiance of the other, as they charged, weapons held high ready to smite each other. He watched in rapt attention as Gabriel's wings flickered black like her sister's. He tried to intervene, but before he could launch his own attack in an attempt to stop them his entire body froze and was restrained.

"Oh dear Husband, you weren't thinking about breaking your vows now were you?" Penemue asked with a hurt look in her eyes as she nimbly dodged her sister's assault. "You see the two of us are bound to one another, and nothing you or anyone does can possibly break that bond. Now sit back and let me take care of this hindrance."

Just as the fight was about to heat up and a translucent barrier sprang into existence around Gabriel, trapping her. Her wings flashed back to white and stayed like that no matter how much she screamed and slashed at the barrier.

"What's going on here?!" A voice asked. A handsome man with long blonde hair and emerald eyes came sprinting from the hallway. Almost instinctively he unfurled his own golden wings and wrapped them around him to deflect a blast of Light. "Penemue!" He asked in disbelief at seeing her black wings.

"Oh yes dear brother?" She asked sweetly. "I must thank you for activating the Lockout system of Father. Trapping Gabriel in a separate dimension was a fortunate side effect of preventing her from Falling." Both men were shocked at the situation still, and Michael was completely unprepared for the spinning heel kick that took him in the jaw and sent him hurtling from the room. "But you see my time here has come to an end. Now if you need me, I'll be on my honeymoon with my husband."

She grinned at the last word, rolling it along her tongue, savoring the taste of it, shivering at the look of hatred that Gabriel sent her way.

If it wasn't for the shield he was sure that Gabriel would've smote her sister without a second's hesitation.

"Come along Dear." Penemue commanded, jerking the chain that connected them, drawing it taut. He stumbled forward landing in her bosom, as she giggled, petting his head. "Oh, there'll be plenty of time for that later." She shot one last triumphant look at her sister before wrapping her wings around the two of them and vanishing in a flurry of feathers.

* * *

"Whose memory was that?" Raguel asked clutching her head at what she saw.

"MY husband's." Penemue said, enunciating the first word and making Gabriel grit her teeth. "Now here's a part of mine:

* * *

"All the time we spent together, the battle we fought, the lives we saved and took." He said sorrowfully. "Did none of that matter to you?"

"Oh my dear husband." She said gliding back to him and resting her head against his chest. She enjoyed the heat that he radiated as well as the beating of his heart. "It's because of that, that I didn't want to lose you."

"My sister, is caring and loving, I fault you not for falling in love with her. Everyone loved dear, sweet, Gabriel, but everyone forgot me, Penemue, Gabriel's opposite. Where she was sweet and kind, I was harsh and unforgiving, an angel of Vengeance and Punishment. Like you I smote Father's enemies with zealous devotion. When Father told us to slaughter the Amalekites, I led the charge. I slaughtered 50,000 of God's chosen people just for daring to peek at the Ark of the Covenant, and before that massacred 14,000 Israelites just for complaining that Father was killing too many of them."

She embraced him tighter, her hold growing desperate. "Only you could understand me, you who followed just as zealously, stained your hands with just as much blood. Only you can look at me and not be disgusted by what I've done. Only you can hold me like this and not be sickened at the stench of blood."

Anyone with a trace of empathy could feel the fear in her voice. Fear of rejection, abandonment, like she had suffered at her Father's hands. No matter what she tried she could not be the good daughter that Gabriel was.

Almost subconsciously his hands tightened around her, holding her closer as his own feelings took over. She looked up into his eyes and saw acceptance, and as he gazed down at her he saw the yearning for love.

Together two broken souls became one, a night of passion leading to one more to one more, until it became uncountable.


End file.
